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“Ohhhh, yes! I remember her. Such a tiny little angel. Poor thing was placed with that crazy Thompson family. I always thought they did foster care for the wrong reasons. Bill barely held down a job. Why do you ask?”

I knew she’d remember.

“Well, I met her the other day, but I think because of the age difference, I didn’t remember her,” I said, pouring myself a glass of water, the phone wedged between my ear and my shoulder.

“Hmmm. I think I only saw her a handful of times when I helped in Abel’s class. I remember her having incredibly striking eyes . . . I think they were maybe blue, or was it green? Either way, I remember them being bright and beautiful. She wasn’t around for too long, and I remember Bill getting arrested after she left. I never heard exactly why, but I always thought it might have been connected. How is she doing now?”

I heard someone giving instructions for another exercise. I settled on a barstool in my kitchen and gave her the rundown of helping search for Connor.

“Wow. Good for her! Making such a difference in children’s lives.” She was always looking for the bright side.

We ended the call a few minutes later as Mom had to do something involving jump roping and wasn’t sure if she’d be able to continue to talk. I knew she’d remember Sawyer, because she was sharp as a tack with details. It was what had made her successful. She worked remotely as a part-time insurance saleswoman while my dad enjoyed his retirement, experimenting with new hobbies. According to my mom, his latest hobby was birdwatching, which fit his quiet and reflective personality. My mom and dad were good, decent people, and someday I hoped I’d have the ability to make them proud, especially since I’d spent so many years doing the opposite.

Soren:

Hey, Pretty Girl.

Sawyer:

Hi.

Soren:

Would you be interested in coming over next Sunday? I’m grilling and having a couple of my friends over.

Sawyer:

Sorry, but I can’t.

Two Days Later

Soren:

Hey, Pretty Girl. I have a meeting in Lewis City tomorrow. Want to grab ice cream afterward?

Sawyer:

I can’t. Maybe another time.

Chapter

Fourteen

Sawyer

“Sawyer!”

I turned toward the person shouting across the parking lot. Inwardly, I cringed because it was Friday and I was scheduled off for the rest of the day. I’d already maxed out my hours due to a 3 a.m. emergency placement situation. Thankfully, I was able to contact a sweet family about thirty minutes away who had been fostering for a few years and had an available opening.

Greg, my least favorite coworker, came striding toward me. I knew he was going to ask me to do something for him before he even opened his mouth. If you searched for “slacker” in the dictionary, there would be a photo of Greg—most likely sitting in an office chair with his feet propped up, slacking. He tried to flirt sometimes, but I couldn’t think of anyone on the planet I was less interested in. He reminded me of a social worker from my childhood who was always doing the bare minimum. His hair was slicked back with gel similar to cringy used car salesmen on tv ads, and he gave off that same nauseating vibe. He always brought candy or donuts to the office so that no one was clued in on how little work he truly completed. He was nearly everyone’s favorite, except mine. Maybe he was too likable, if that was a thing, and it felt completely insincere. Either way, he wasn’t someone I enjoyed being around, and I tried to minimize interactions whenever possible.

“Can you take Brooke to the Bailey family for respite? I’m transporting Kenna to Hays.”

The Baileys were the same family that had done respite for Connor last week. I always enjoyed seeing them. Brooke was such a sweet kid that loved playing dress up, but this was the kind of thing that Greg tried to pull all the time. Most likely he was supposed to transport Brooke this morning and Kenna this afternoon, but somehow appeared to be busy all morning while Brooke waited.

“I’m off the clock. Is transport not available?” I asked. His unnatural blond hair reflected in the sunlight.

“No, everyone is booked, and it’ll be after 7 p.m. before anyone else can take her.”